By the End of the Week
by CasiNight
Summary: Someone is trying to kill Russ. But Russ always thinks they are trying to kill someone else. Russ Whump. Worried Milt.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys. I hope everyone had a wonderful Easter! This started out as a one-shot and then, suddenly, BAM! Total story with plot appears. I really hope that I did alright with the characters. I watch so many shows with strong bromances that I fear I am making the friendship too strong. Still, I will carry on and continue to try. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Battle Creek. I simply borrow them to write stories of friendship and whumpage. **

**ENJOY!**

* * *

The man looked down at the pictures on the table, his eyes dancing over them as a smile graced his lips. "You're sure that this will draw him out?"

"Positive, sir," said the mousy man beside him.

The man's smile grew, finding the information especially pleasing. "Perfect. Detective Agnew will be dead by the end of the week."

* * *

It was an unexpected event that Tuesday morning when his phone rang with an unknown number. Picking it up off his desk, he looked at it for a moment before answering it with a confused expression. "Agent Chamberlain."

"_Agent Milton Chamberlain? I'm sorry to be calling but you were listed as one of Detective Russ Agnew's emergency contacts."_ The voice on the other end was filled with sympathy, but still cold enough to relay the message.

"Russ? What's wrong with Russ?" Milt hadn't moved since he had answered the phone, his heartbeat sounding in his ears. "Is he ok?"

"_Detective Agnew was in a minor explosion. Detective Fontanelle was also injured, although his injuries were not as severe." _

At this point, Milt was finally moving, grabbing his keys and heading towards the doors, and, in return, towards the hospital. Knowing Russ, he told the nurse, "Don't let Detective Agnew leave until I have arrived, please."

Milt drove as efficiently to the hospital as possible, never breaking the laws or the speed limits, but the time passed quickly as he drove towards the hospital. When he got close, it shone like a beacon of hope that his partner was well.

Parking the car, and trying to do it calmly and confidently while attempting to discern why the thought of Russ hurt bothered him so much. Once more, the question of how he felt towards Russ came to mind. It was becoming harder and harder to deny his feelings of friendship towards the cynical man.

Walking "calmly" into the hospital, he went to the front desk, smiling politely at the nurse working there. "Good morning. I'm looking for a Detective Russ Agnew. He came in this morning. I just got a call not 10 minutes ago."

"Oh yes," she nodded. "Detective Agnew. He came in with partial thickness second degree burns and a grade 2 concussion. He'll be free to go as soon as he is finished signing the paperwork, which he is doing right now."

"Could you please tell me where?" Milt was starting to get nervous now, looking around and searching for any sign of his partner. _I'm totally not scared. I'm just professionally worried. Totally not scared. _

"He's in exam room 3," the nurse said, pointing in that direction.

Milt smiled, nodding and slowly walking in that direction. "Thank you very much."

Moving quickly towards the room, he had to stop and compose himself, straightening his jacket and taking a deep breath before knocking on the door. The voice that answered within was rough and pained sounding. "Come in."

Milt slowly opened the door, stepping in slowly and taking in the image in front of him. "Russ?"

Russ looked up from his position on the examination table. His jacket was gone and he was sitting in his partially unbuttoned white shirt. There was gauze underneath the shirt and Milt saw some bruises and burns peeking out of the edges. There was also gauze on his arms and further bruising there and on his neck and forehead. "M-." He cleared his throat and looked down for a moment before looking up again. "Milt. What are you doing here?"

Milt squinted his eyes and held his arms out at his sides. "They called me. Told me you'd been in an explosion."

Russ sighed and put his fingers up to the bridge of his nose, trying to pinch away the pain that resided there. Milt took a few steps forward, worried about the concussion that the nurse had told him of. "I forgot that I put you down. At the time it seemed like a good idea," Russ said, letting his hand drop to his lap and looking up with slowly blinking eyes.

"It was a good idea. We see each other every single day, so why wouldn't it be a good idea? What happened anyways? Is Detective Fontanelle ok?" Milt asked, not meaning to rapid fire question at the injured man.

"Woh, slow down there. In answer to your question, Fontanelle's fine. Just a little shaken up. I sent him home to recover." Russ absentmindedly rubbed at his arm and grimaced.

"You didn't answer my question." Milt said, leaning against the table that Russ was sitting on.

"Are you asking or interrogating?!" Russ snapped, feeling guilty the second that the words left his mouth.

Milt took no offense by the harsh comment, knowing that, like a cornered animal, Russ was simply lashing out because of fear. Gently and quietly, he said, "Asking."

"We went to speak to a neighbor, but found that the house was empty," he started, looking down at his hands. "We were heading back out and the mailbox blew up. I was closest, but Fontanelle was right behind me. I tried to push him out of the way, but I was too late."

"Wait, Russ," Milt said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. "The mailbox blew up?"

Russ nodded. "Yeah . . ." Looking at Milt, his eyes grew wide. "Milt . . . Someone's trying to kill Fontanelle."

* * *

**Dun Dun DUUUUUNNNNNN! Russ of course thinks that it is Fontanelle who is being targeted. That's one of the things that I love about his character. It just seems that he has this attitude towards himself that he isn't important enough for anyone to take time on. Maybe that's why I'm so endeared towards him. :)  
**

**How was it? Was it alright? Please tell me with a review! I so love reviews. I don't know when the next update will be, but I will continue to work on this story and the other ones that I am currently writing.**

**Everyone have a great week!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! This is the fastest that I've updated a story this year! **

**Hey guys! The reviews that I received all day today really inspired me to update sooner. Even though there was only about 7 of them, doesn't mean that they didn't mean a lot to me. I treasure every single review. **

**Again, I really hope that I'm not overdoing the bromance in this story. I'm really trying to hold back, but my dreams of brotp doesn't help. :) Please continue to review to tell me how I'm doing!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Battle Creek. I just really like the characters and the story line.**

* * *

Russ sat on the couch of Milt's office, looking through files of the cases that Fontanelle had closed. Fontanelle, who had been picked up by Russ and Milt, was across the hallway, in the BCPD offices, looking through similar files while Milt was speaking to Cmdr. Guziewicz. Russ wasn't sure what they were speaking of and how it could be more important than finding the man that was trying to kill Fontanelle, but his head hurt too badly for him to do anything about it at this moment.

Looking back down, he went back to work and flipped through more pages of his friends cases.

Milt looked out of the Commander's window as his hard-working partner, who was taking another moment to massage his forehead. "He's going to kill himself."

Guziewicz nodded, looking up from her paperwork at the man in front of her, looking him up and down again. Smiling, she thoughtfully tapped her pen against her chin. "Russ is loyal to a fault. He will kill himself trying to save Fontanelle if you don't keep an eye on him. After all, he called you Milt."

Milt turned around and looked at Guziewicz as she returned to her paperwork. "What do you mean?"

"He won't eat or sleep if you don't make him while he's searching for Fontanelle's assailant. All I mean is that you're going to have to remind him that he's no help to Fontanelle dead."

Milt waited for her to finish, not wanting to interrupt her mid-sentence. "But what did you mean about calling me Milt?"

Looking up, she realized that she had spoken her thoughts out loud and smiled, shaking her head. "Nothing. Just thinking out loud."

Milt nodded and went back to looking out the window before frowning at the empty desk nearest the door. "Where's Holly?"

"She's at an interview. Out of town. That's why the hospital called you," Guziewicz said, looking up once again. "You were the second person on his hospital contacts. I convinced him to do that in case of this happening. Recently, Holly's been out of town more often than not and if he was injured, they'd have no one to call."

Milt nodded, feeling touched that Russ considered him close enough to put him on his hospital contact list. "I better get back in there," he said, feeling slightly protective with this new information.

Guziewicz watched Milt leave the office, nodding at the other officers outside and heading towards his own office. She was not quite smiling but looking with a measure of fondness as she said, "He did call him 'Milt'."

* * *

Milt walked into his office, frowning when he saw Russ quickly release the bridge of his nose and try to hide the fact that he wasn't just trying to massage the pain away. "Found anything useful, yet?" Milt asked, trying to be as cordial as possible, like he had just asked if Russ knew what the weather was going to be tomorrow.

"No, but maybe this would be going by a lot faster if you were helping instead of flirting." Russ said, not bothering to look up from his files.

"The Commander and I were actually just discussing this case and the circumstances surrounding it," Milt said, sitting down at his desk and activating his computer. By telling Russ this, he was still keeping his statement as the man who never lied. He just didn't always tell the whole story.

"Well, there is limited time to figure out who is trying to kill Fontanelle. I don't want to punish him to sleeping here for the next month while we drag our feet." Russ said, rubbing at his head once more.

Milt didn't answer as his eyes stared at nothing, showing that his mind was working over problems.

"Russ," Milt said, not looking up from his spot on the wall, "did the crime lab find anything that gave a clue as to why the mailbox blew?"

Russ shook his head. "No. The mayor cut our budget again and the department decided that there was no point. They feel that we can narrow down the suspect pool and get a confession without having any evidence."

Milt finally looked over and smiled. "Are you saying that for once, it takes more than just asking people?"

Russ rolled his head back and forth before stopping to massage his temple. "Yeah. Don't rub it in."

"You know, I have a piece of equipment that can measure chemical residue. We don't even need a crime lab."

Russ finally met Milt's eyes and, without saying a word, stood at the same time as he did and headed towards the door, not complaining about the lack of money that the department had in comparison or about his fancy car. This was about Fontanelle after all. He didn't really care what resources he had to use in order to get the answers that he needed.

* * *

Milt parked the car on the side of the street and, after going to the trunk and removing a specific briefcase, began to walk towards the house, lifting up the crime scene tape and allowing Russ to walk underneath it. He had carefully avoided potholes on the way over and was aware of every wince that went through the shorter man's frame. Stopping next to where the mailbox used to be, he opened the briefcase and looked up at his partner, who was looking around the property. "Where were you standing when the mailbox blew?"

Russ moved to an area that was about 10 feet away and stood there. "I was about here." Backing up three feet, he said, "And Fontanelle was about here."

Milt nodded, a drop of confusion marring the facts. There was something about Russ's story that just didn't sit right with him. _Now's not the time, though. He's barely on his feet. I'll ask later. _

Russ walked towards the house, his pace slowing as he got closer. _What's that smell?_ "Hey, Milt?"

Milt didn't hear him, focused instead on reading his instrument.

"Milt?"

He still didn't hear him. "There's nothing left. It's probably been too long since the explosion occurred."

"Do you smell gas?" Russ asked, slowly nearing the house.

Milt's eyes grew wide before raising the instrument at the house. High levels of natural gas light up the screen and Milt found himself dropping the expensive equipment in exchange for moving towards his partner. "Russ! Get down!"

The ending of his cry was cut off as the house blew, flinging Russ and Milt back on to the hard concrete of the road. Milt landed on his side, his head connecting with the concrete. Russ fell on his shoulder, making sure to cushion his head with his arms as he protected himself with the already burnt appendage.

Once the area calmed down and Russ trusted himself to speak, he stopped holding his ringing ears and experimented with opening his eyes. "Milt?"

Milt did the same, sitting up and looking around. His concern for his partner rose when he saw that the other man wasn't even attempting to sit up. "Russ? Russ, are you ok?"

Russ fought to sit up, clutching his side as he gasped for breath. "Yeah, I'm fine, lets get out of here."

Milt staggered to his feet and reached for Russ, grabbing his outstretched hand and pulling him up too. He had to act quickly and catch him, though, as he stumbled and began to fall, his face blanching as the pain in his side tripled. "Russ, we need to go the hospital."

"No. I'm fine. Anyways, now you have a fresh explosion to measure. Take some readings and let's get back to the office. We need to update the Commander about the recent turn of events." Milt led Russ back to the car, never once taking his hands off the man. He wouldn't be doing his partner any favors if he gave him his personal space and let him break his nose on the concrete. Helping him into the passenger seat, he stood and waited for his partner to finish his thought. "That bomb could mean one of two things. 1. It was for earlier, when Fontanelle was here, but malfunctioned. Or 2. We now have two bombers, one that's after you and one that after Fontanelle. You and Fontanelle both need to be put under protective custody until we catch the two maniacs trying to do this."

Milt just stood there, covered in ash as the firetrucks rained in and started the endeavor of putting out the flames, incredulously looking at his partner. _Guziewicz and I need to have a talk about this. _"Or, Russell, the common element of you may be the answer. You've been at both explosions. Is it so inconceivable to think that someone may be trying to kill you?"

* * *

**How was it? I hope it was ok. I really try with these stories to get the characters right. **

**I really decided to try and emphasize my head-canon in this story that Russ really doesn't think he's worth anyone's time or effort. I'm getting this kind of from the commercials for the next episode with his mom. However, I think that Milt is going to change all that and show him that he is worth having friends.**

**P.S. Can we talk about the way that Russ says "Milt"? Part of the inspiration of this story was based off of the one fact that Russ stopped calling him "Agent Chamberlain" and started calling him "Milt". And while writing this message I'm simply watching this one scene over and over again where Russ tells Milt that he needs to use his digital crime board and the defenseless puppy dog look that Milt's face for a moment when, for just a moment, he thinks that something may be wrong. AND THEN THEY'RE STANDING AT THE BOARD, ELBOWS TOUCHING! THIS BROTP IS HAPPENING GUYS! **

**P.S.S. I love the little conversation looks that have also started to happen. Can we talk about those too?***

***No. Seriously. If anyone wants to message me and talk about this, feel free. I gave up Tumblr and none of my friends watch this show, so now I have no one to fangirl with. :) [But please no inappropriate conversations.] **


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys. Sorry that it's been so long. I lost inspiration for awhile there and it took a little bit to get it back. Thanks for all the reviews that you guys have left. They really mean a lot, especially right now. Real life has been . . . Let's just say it hasn't been great. Every day is just a struggle to find something to keep fighting for and I'm getting really tired. Thankfully, schools about to end and when that happens, many of my problems will go away. But you didn't come here to read my whining, you came here to read!**

**Sorry, this chapter is a little lacking on the Russ whump if that's what you're here for. I do have to attempt to put plot in here somewhere. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Battle Creek or any of it's characters. I just like to borrow them for the purposes of giving them feelings and beating them up. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Once again, Russ was sitting on an examination bed in the hospital, his jacket removed and tie loosened, only, this time, Milt was standing next to him, speaking to the doctor about him. "Are you sure there are no underlying injuries or internal perforations?"

Russ shook his head and placed the bridge of his nose between two fingers, attempting to pinch the pain away. _Doesn't Milt know that it's rude to use large words around concussed people? _

"Quiet sure, Agent. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to attend to some other patients."

"Certainly. Thank you, doctor." Milt said, finally looking appeased with the information he was given.

On the way out, the doctor let in Commander Guziewicz. She didn't say anything until she was standing directly in front of them, arms crossed. "Explain."

"Well, you see, Commander,-."

Russ interrupted Milt there, not really concerned about being rude at this point. His eyes remained closed as he said, "House exploded."

Milt gave him a gentle glare.

Guziewicz nodded, looking between the two men. "Thoughts. Or are we sticking with the idea that Fontanelle is the target?" She already knew which option she was vying for and she was pretty sure that Milt agreed, but she wanted to discuss it none-the-less.

"Definitely not." Milt said, jumping in before Russ even had a chance to take a breath.

"Milt, Fontanelle and you-."

"Russ, just stop. Why don't you think that you're the target? Any other person, and you would be locking them in the safest room you know of. Why is it so out of the range of possibility that someone is trying to kill you?"

Russ was silent, looking at the floor as if Milt should be asking it instead because it held the answers.

Guziewicz looked at Russ, a sympathetic frown painting her features and turned to Milt, tilting her head towards the hallway. "Milt, can I have a word with you?"

Milt nodded reluctantly, not entirely comfortable with the idea of leaving Russ here alone. Trying to get his attention, he finally placed a hand on his arm, the touch so light that it barely pressed into the fabric of his shirt. "I'll be right back," he said, giving Russ a smile that was so familiar to him by now.

Russ nodded, trying to give him a smile back.

It looked more like a grimace.

Milt dropped his hand and turned away, following Guziewicz out of the examination room. "Is something wrong, Commander?"

"You know what I talked to you about earlier? I said that you needed to keep an eye on him. This is why. Loyal to a fault and incapable of believing that someone may be spending the time on him. He feels useless, like the only reason he's useful is to save people, which is why he's a cop, and to help those people that's he's closest to."

Milt wanted to bang his head against a wall. He's from the FBI, he's been trained in behavioral science, he's the one who should know psychology, and, yet, he completely missed his partner's dangerous loyalty complex. "Commander . . . With your permission, I would like to take Russ to the safe house."

Commander Guziewicz nodded, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Permission granted."

Milt nodded and turned back towards the door, stopping as Guziewicz grabbed his arm and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Take care of him. After all, he called you Milt."

Milt nodded and re-entered the room, finding Russ with his jacket already on and his expression changed from what it had been before.

"You done having a girly moment with the commander, again, I might add, so that we can get back to work with the case?" Russ asked, hopping off the bed and swaying only for a moment before steadying himself on the table.

"We're not going to be working on the case," Milt said, leading the way into the, now empty, hallway. The emptiness unsettled him and he found that he was becoming more protective the longer the case went on. _He did call me Milt. What the hell does that even mean?! Lots of people call me Milt! Why should the fact that Russ does mean anything?! _Deep down, he was pretty sure that he knew why it was a big deal, but he didn't really feel like confronting that right now.

"And why the hell aren't we working on the case? We need to go and catch this bomber." Russ said, growing angry with the sudden change of events. He was being sidelined and he knew that it was being sidelined.

"Fontanelle can handle the bomber and the FBI will be assisting. Since this has become a serial bombing, they will be stepping heavily in. I'll be handling your protection." Milt said, walking slightly ahead. He would like to think that he was doing that because that was how they always walked, but he knew that it was really so that he could push Russ out of the way if something did happen.

"Handling my what?!" Russ asked, angry now.

"Commander Guziewicz and I agreed that someone is indeed trying to kill you and that you have been the main target this entire time. For this reason, she has agreed to my idea of taking you into protective custody and housing you in the safe house until further notice."

"Oh my god. How does this even happen to me?" Russ said, rubbing the top of his nose. "Not only do I have to work with you, but now you're making me live with you? Is this all just some twisted way that the Commander is trying to get us to become better partners? You know, now that I think about it, maybe she is the bomber. Maybe you should investigate her." Russ said, equaling stride with Milt.

Milt saw the look of pain on his face from trying to keep pace with him, so he slowed down, holding the door open for his partner while they stepped out into the sunlight. Russ squinted and Milt knew that it had to be unpleasant for him to be in the light with a concussion, but they needed to move quickly and get to the safe house before anything happened. "I highly doubt that the commander is trying to kill you."

Russ sighed as he arrived at the passenger door to the vehicle, giving the door handle a gentle tug. Milt saw the mask of confusion as the door didn't budge and his instincts immediately kicked in. "Russ? What's wrong?"

"You don't usually lock your car, do you?" Russ said, wishing that he had the reassuring weight of his gun. Unfortunately, it was currently locked inside of the vehicle.

At that exact moment, bullets peppered the side of the car and shattered the windows, initiating Russ's dive to the ground. Milt's gun was out in a matter of microseconds, firing in the direction that the shots came from as he moved around the car in order to block his partner's body from possible bullets travel. But the shots finished as quickly as they started, meaning that soon, Milt was looking around from someone else to shoot at. He hadn't realized that he'd zoned out for a moment until he felt a hand on his ankle. "Milt? You there?" He quickly looked down and saw his partner looking up at him from his position in between the car and the sidewalk.

"Russ? Are you ok?" He was tucking his gun away and reaching for his partner before the sentence was out.

"Yeah. I'm fine," Russ said as Milt gently pulled him out of the gutter. He declined any pain medication while he was in the hospital, only about 30 feet away, and now he was seriously reconsidering that.

"Do you need to go see the doctor again?" Milt was asking.

"No. I'm fine." Milt didn't look convinced. "Milt, please. If you don't take me back in there, I'll cooperate and go to the safe house with you. If you make me go back in there, I'll fight you the entire rest of the day."

Milt considered his options for a moment and decided on taking his partner at his word. _I can always call an ambulance if it gets really bad. _"Alright. Let's go. I'll call the my boys to come and look for any evidence. For now, though, I need to get you someplace secure."

* * *

**How was it? I hope it was decent. I'm really trying lately. I finished this chapter today while I was waiting around to see if anyone needed tutoring help. However, since my only skill is English, nobody really needed my assistance. So I stole a laptop and finished this. (I didn't really steal a laptop. Just so you guys know.)**

**Please leave a review and I hope to be back soon! Have a great rest of the week!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Sorry about the long wait. Real life is . . . complicated. Which reminds me . . . thanks for all the support. Every single message means a lot and trust me when I say that so do reviews. And I'm not just saying that to get reviews. A day will be going by and I'll be in a tough spot and then I get this notification and it's some kind person saying something along the lines of 'hang in there. I hope everything gets better' . . . It makes a difference. Suddenly, that day doesn't seem quiet so long and dreary and I don't feel quiet so alone. Thank you. **

**ONTO BATTLE CREEK! I have been loving these new episodes! For more fangirling, read after the story at the bottom!  
**

**Here is the newest chapter! I really want to explore more of the worried-Milt with the vulnerable-Russ. I think that they've been giving us little hints of that so this was kind of born from that. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Battle Creek or it's characters. If I did . . . YOU GET A HURT RUSS! AND YOU GET A HURT RUSS! EVERY EPISODE IS A HURT RUSSSSSSSS!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

By the time they got to the safe house, Milt was pretty sure that he had heard every single excuse and curse word in Russ' vocabulary. And the only thing that he had really gotten out of all of the bitching and the whining was that Russ really didn't want to go to the safe house. However, while he verbally assaulted him for making him go, he didn't physically fight him. Russ said that this meant that he kept his word. Milt wasn't so sure.

"We're here," Milt cheerfully announced.

Russ had gone silent in the passenger seat about 10 minutes ago and Milt watched him startle awake, feeling slightly guilty that he had spoken so loudly to a concussed man. "I can't believe you're doing this." Russ said grumpily, all but falling out of the car when he opened the door.

Milt fought the urge to dart around the nose of the car in order to help his partner and instead calmly walked, surveying the skies and searching for any glints of light in the windows. He'd kept a careful eye on the rear-view mirror in case anyone was following them, but he didn't see anything. "I apologize if my concern for your life is making you feel appreciated," Milt said, closing the door to the car as Russ slowly straightened his torso, wincing as it pulled at his ribs.

"If you're thinking that Stockholm syndrome might work on me, I think I'd move to a different plan, because it won't."

Milt shrugged. "I can still try." Leading the way into the building, Milt held every door for his exhausted partner and kept a close eye on the man as he fought his way up the stairs. After a stumble that looked particularly nasty, Milt darted to the man's side and caught him before he fell, helping him to slowly stand again and nod at him. He could've sworn he heard a 'thank you', but he wasn't going to push his luck.

They reached the designated floor without anymore incidents and Milt opened the "wall" with the clicker in his pocket.

"Home sweet home," Russ mumbled, immediately moving towards the large couch. He stripped himself of his jacket, trying, and failing, to hide the winch of pain that resulted from the movement, and laid it across the back of the couch. Removing his shoes was his last action before he lowered himself to the soft cushions and laid down, adjusting his head on the pillow.

Milt didn't speak as a fond smile split his features. He waited until his partners breathing evened out before retrieving a blanket from the closet and laying it across Russ' sleeping form. As he was turning away, he lingered for a moment, his gaze frozen on his partner's face. He looked . . . peaceful. The cynicism was gone, replaced by something that looked too innocent to be a cops face. For not the first time that day, Milt felt a wave of something akin to the need to shield his partner from whatever was trying to kill him wash over him. _Don't worry, buddy. Nobody's getting you on my watch._

Walking into the next room, he removed his own jacket, revealing his service gun, and pulled out his phone. Relaxing into a chair, but still on alert in case something were to happen, he dialed the Commander's number. "We're at the safe house."

Guziewicz audibly sighed in relief on the other end. "Good. We just discovered who exactly is after Russ. One of our snitches came through with a name."

Milt leaned forward, waiting for her to continue.

"A man named Ivan. That's all he's known by, on the streets. His full name, as far as we know, is Ivan Zek. Russ put him away about 10 years ago. He just escaped from prison. All of our CI's have been saying that he's very set on killing Russ slowly." Guziewicz sounded nervous. She never sounded nervous. Milt could feel his nerves stand on end and he was no longer relaxed in his chair.

"What can we do? Do we have a location? What does he have?" Milt asked, trying to keep his voice down as he stood and moved to a vantage point that showed his partner still peacefully sleeping. _I'm gonna have to tell him._

"As far as what we can do: not much. We basically just have to wait until he comes out and makes his move first. We have no idea where he is and no one else knows or is too afraid to say anything. We don't have a location and we don't know exactly what his resources are. After he broke out of prison, he got his men back and overthrew a gun dealer. We're trying to find some of the dealer's boys and have them tell us exactly what they were dealing." Guziewicz said. Milt couldn't help but notice that she sounded tired.

"Well, so far we know that he had explosives and a rifle." Milt winched. She didn't know about the rifle thing.

"Rifle? Why would we know he has a rifle?" Guziewicz no longer sounded tired.

"Well,-." He was surprised to be cut off.

"Somebody shot at us." Russ said across the room from the couch.

Milt sighed. _Mission objective: keep quiet and let him sleep. Mission status: FAILURE. _

"Somebody shot at you? When?" Guziewicz asked. Milt could just see her slowly standing from her seated position at her desk.

"Right after we left the hospital. They locked my car to stall us and then opened fire on Russ."

"Why would you put an R at the beginning of the word 'us'?" Russ slurred. If it wasn't so filled with exhaustion, a bit of annoyance might have peeked through that sentence.

Milt rolled his eyes. "No damage was done though. We're both fine and safely at the safe house."

"It wouldn't be very safe if we weren't."

"From now on, I would like to be IMMEDIATELY informed of such developments. Alright, Agent Chamberlain?"

_I'm in trouble. _"Yes, Commander."

"Good. I'll call back in an hour with an update on Zek." The line went dead with that final remark and Milt slowly lowered the phone before pressing end.

Slowly walking out to the main area, he joined his partner in the living room space. "That was Guziewicz," Milt said, looking his partner up and down and gauging his physical status.

Russ sighed, nodding against the pillow. "I figured as much." His eyes were still closed and Milt watched him sigh and wince, knowing that he was clutching his abdomen. _Why didn't I make him get checked out again? _"What did she have to say?" Russ asked after he had gotten his breath back.

"They know who's coming after you and yes. You. Not Fontanelle. Not me. You." Milt waited and watched Russ' reactions. First was anger, then rejection, then confusion, and, finally, acceptance. "A man named Ivan Zek."

Russ' face paled, his eyes snapped open, and, for a moment, Milt worried that the doctor had missed an internal bleed. "Zek?" Russ swallowed dryly before throwing the blanket off and attempting to stand. Milt was by him in an instant, pushing him back down. "Milton, let go of me. You don't understand. I have to go. Let go. Milt!" He froze and looked up at his partner, his eyes pleading as he fought for whatever control he still had over himself and the situation. "You don't understand. If Zek is here . . ."

Milt sat on the coffee table in front of the couch, not releasing Russ' biceps. "Russ . . . Buddy, talk to me. What's going on? Who is Ivan Zek?"

Russ took a deep breath before a smug smile came over his face, faint against the still present fear. "You mean the all-knowing FBI doesn't know about Ivan Zek?"

Milt rolled his eyes.

Russ' smile disappeared as he looked at the floor. "Ivan Zek is a hit-man and a damn good one at that. He killed at least 5 people that we were able to pin on him. There was another 10 that we couldn't get, but he's the prime suspect. Just no evidence. I put him away 10 years ago. I was just a beat cop then and I pulled him over because he was speeding. There was a gun in the backseat and I asked him to step out of the car. He pulled out a gun shot me, but not before I got him. Backup came and that was the last I saw of him besides the trial. It wasn't till later that I learned what he was, but he got life. I never thought I would have to worry about him. How did he get out?"

Milt, through the entire confession didn't let go of his partner, and said, "Guziewicz said that he escaped from prison. I don't know anything more than that which is why I'm asking you."

Russ nodded and looked back down at the ground. "Please, Milt. He's coming. There have already been several close calls. I don't want you to get hurt."

Milt was stunned. This was the first open admission of care or something that even related to friendship that Milt had ever heard. _After all, he did call you Milt. _And like a switch, it all made sense. _He thinks of me as his friend. _At that moment, Milt's mind was made up and he moved his hands to Russ' shoulders. He wouldn't abandon his partner. He would either save him from this threat or die beside him. "Russ. I know that you don't trust me and I know that I haven't told you all of the truth, but I WILL NOT leave you. We're either going to do this together, or not at all, understand me? I will. Not. Leave you. If they wanna kill you, they're going to have to kill me too."

* * *

**How was it? I hope it was good! Tell me with a review! And be prepared for an emotionally traumatized Milt later on. Let's just say that he does everything he can. DON'T WORRY! THIS ISN'T A DEATH FIC! That was just a little teaser. :)**

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********SPOILERS********

**Fangirling: Did you see Milt's face when Russ walked by after smashing the painting!? That was a smirk. That was a fondness smirk. No one can convince me otherwise. And, not going to lie, I sometimes rewind 2 or 3 times when they say each others name to reflect on the inflection they put into that moment. If it's something serious, it's quiet and personal. If not, then it's a "Hey buddy!". Also, when they found Danny's real dad and he called Russ over to him and Russ was like "Yo!". I loved that. Gosh. I just love them so much. "I better go get Russ." The exchange of "Russel" for "Milton". One moment they are yelling at each other and the next their like "Get in this car and I'm still angry at you but don't hurt yourself". If this show lasts, it's going to become a great bromance. I'm just waiting for the episode where one of them is critically injured and the other refuses to leave their side after they catch the person who did it. Because we all know that's going to happen. :)  
Ok. Rant over. Have a great rest of the week. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys. Sorry about the wait. Life has gotten somewhat easier, but I've just been really tired and I have been fairly busy. However, now I'm back. I've had this written for awhile, but I've been tweaking and this version is different from what I had originally planned out. This just kind of abducted my muse, held it for ransom, and then released it on certain terms and conditions. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Battle Creek or its characters, because, if I did, it would've been renewed. **

**ENJOY!**

* * *

Milt looked up from his laptop, a spare one that he kept in the safe house since it was close to impossible to leave once there, and sighed at the sight of his partner. It had taken him close to 15 minutes to calm the man down and, once he had, the adrenaline dump had sent his partner into a coma like sleep. Unfortunately, that sleep was far from peaceful.

_"If they wanna kill you, they're going to have to kill me too." _

_Russ hadn't responded the way that he had hoped he would. "That's what I'm afraid of! It's not worth it, Milton!"_

_"Russell." The name had come out close to a growl. He hadn't meant for it to be that way, but that's just what happened. He was so tired, so done with Russ' self-loathing that he was tempted to hit the man in order to get the point across. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option since he already had a concussion. He sighed, removing one hand from Russ' shoulders to scrub at the back of his own neck before moving both appendages to Russ' shaking forearms. The gesture was a few inches higher than his hands, but Milt hoped that he would understand. Gripping tightly, he said, "I know that this isn't what you want to hear right now, but you are my friend and I am yours. You are my partner, you are a good man, and you are worth it. He won't be able to get us here. You're safe." Milt saw that that didn't completely calm the detective's nerves and so added, "I'm safe. We're both gonna get through this." _

A vibrating phone brought Milt's attention back to the present and he picked it up from the wood table beside his computer. His gun sat on the other side and he was sitting at such an angle that if anyone even thought about coming in, he would be on them in a New York second. "Agent Chamberlain."

"Milt, this is Guziewicz. We might have a lead on Zek's position."

Milt smiled slightly. "That's great. How are you going to do it?" He didn't say 'we'. He would not be joining them. To leave his partner unprotected went against every instinct he had right now. _Plus, I don't trust him to not go looking for this guy alone. _

"He's in a warehouse in the manufacturing district. We'll be going in hot. The goal is to take him down, by any means necessary, as quickly as possible. I'll call you back once we're done."

The phone went dead at that instant and Milt placed it gently back on the table. Scrubbing calloused hands down his weary face, he sat back in his chair before rolling away from the table and going into the kitchen. The pot of coffee sitting there was still warm from when he had made it 15 minutes ago and he poured himself a generous serving. Hesitating for a moment, he took down another mug and poured a second cup. Picking up both, he headed over to the couch and once more sat on the coffee table in front of it. He set the coffee mugs to the side and waited for a moment before reaching out and laying a hand gently on his partner's arm.

"Russ, wake up." No response. "Come on, buddy. Wake up. I need to tell you something." Now he'd taken to gently patting Russ' arm. He was rewarded with bleary eyes opening and looking at him.

"Milt?" Russ blinked up at him.

Milt nodded, not removing his hand from Russ' arm. _That's right. Concussion. _"Yeah, Russ. It's me. I need to tell you something." Reaching beside him, he picked up the cup of coffee. "I brought you coffee. Trust me when I say that it's much better than the stuff in the office."

Russ slowly sat up, with much winching, gasping, and help from Milt, and was eventually seated up against the back cushions of the couch. Milt didn't rush him and, only when he was steady against the cushions, passed him the mug of steaming coffee. Russ took a sip of it and Milt watched as his eyes cleared and his mind sharpened. "You ok?" Milt asked.

Russ nodded, holding the hot mug between his cold hands. "Yeah. I'm good. What's up?"

"Guziewicz just called. She said that they had a lead on Zek's position. They're going into the warehouse, where he's holed up, hard. They're going to take him down by any means necessary." Milt said, holding his own cup of coffee and leaning with his elbows on his knees. He noticed, absentmindedly, that his and Russ' knees were touching and neither of them seemed concerned with moving.

"You keep on saying 'they'. Are you not going?" Russ' voice was timid, like he was afraid of the answer that he also needed.

"I promised you that I wasn't going to leave you. I try to never lie." Milt shrugged at the end of his sentence, taking a long swig of coffee while analyzing his partner over the rim.

Russ looked down into his cup and, for the briefest of moments while he thought that Milt couldn't see him, he looked frightened. And then the look was gone, replaced by his ever present wall of cynicism.

Milt heard his phone ring and got up, slowly, using Russ' knee to push himself off the table. He picked his phone up off the table in the back room, a feeling of dread filling his gut. "Hello?"

"Milt, it's Guziewicz. You need to get out of there. Zek knows where you are and he knows how to get in. You need to clear out NOW! He has a head start and we won't be able to get to you for another 10 minutes maybe."

Milt immediately put his coffee down and grabbed his gun. His jacket was forgotten in favor of getting to Russ.

Russ had heard the commotion across the room and got the idea, standing up shakily and leaning on the back of the couch as he headed towards Milt. "Milt, what's going on?"

"Zek knows we're here. There must be a mole." The fact that he was coming didn't need to be mentioned. "Let's go," he said, heading towards the door. Before he pressed the button, he froze, listening. Russ listened too and both of their hopes soon fell. Voices could be heard outside, heavily accented voices that sounded very angry.

Looking over at Milt, Russ reached for his gun, happy that he had grabbed it on the way there from the car. He'd kept it stuffed in his waistband, but it seemed like a good of time as any to pull it out. "There a backdoor out of this place?"

"We can use the fire-escape," Milt said, pushing him towards the window as he covered the massive door. It would hold them for awhile, but they would eventually get through, either by hacking or by explosives.

Russ was already through the window when the explosion happened, throwing Milt out onto the grating of the fire escape. Hands were on him in an instant, pulling him down the ladder. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was Russ, pulling him along and cursing all the way. He came back to himself about that time and rolled over, getting to his feet. Bullets rained down from the window and Russ and Milt returned fire, dodging the bullets as they pinged off the railings around them.

Skipping the last ladder, Russ jumped over the railing, much to Milt's displeasure, and crumpled to the ground, struggling to stand back up. Milt lept down next to him and pulled him back up, filing away the cry of pain to remind himself that he needed to check his partner out later. One arm around his partner, Milt pulled him down the alley, only to stop as figures appeared at the end. He turned and saw the other way blocked by men coming down the fire escape and landing on the pavement.

Turning quickly, he raised his gun and pointed it at Ivan Zek. He'd found a picture in the FBI files while Russ had been sleeping and he at once recognized the sharp face and pale eyes. "Milt . . ." Russ said quietly beside him. Milt ignored him.

"Ivan Zek, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Detective Russell Agnew." Milt said, calmly and with authority.

A gunshot rang out and pain exploded in Milt's back, right below his shoulder blade. His arm dropped, the gun clattering to the ground as he followed it. Russ fell beside him, breathing harsh and labored as he fought for air. The unexpected tumble to the ground had dislodged his broken ribs, resulting in a crushing pain in his side. Milt tried to crawl towards his gun, hand outstretched, but a foot came down and stepped on his hand, using the other foot to kick the gun away.

"Tsc-tsc-tsc. Agent Chamberlain, I expected more from you. Then again, you did have _this_," he kicked Russ in the side, resulting in Russ grunting and then trying to stand, which resulted in a foot placed in the middle of his back and crushing him to the ground, "holding you down. Don't worry. I'll relieve you of it."

Someone came forward and hit Russ across the back of the head, causing him to crumple, unconscious to the ground, right in Milt's line of view, before being unceremoniously dragged away.

Milt tried to stand, but blood was running down his back and his vision was graying out. More of the henchmen began to disappear and, soon, Milt was alone in the alley. He pushed himself to his knees and looked at the last spot where he'd seen Russ. Sirens sounded in the distance and Milt turned around as cars pulled into the of 'Milt!' went up in the air but he didn't seem to hear them, simply staring at the ground where his partner had lay. He blinked slowly, the image of his unconscious partner etched in his his way to his feet, he stumbled a few steps towards where the car that had taken Russ had gone before the ground began to rush up to meet him.

And then the world went black.

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**How was it? I hope it was alright. I really debated posting it because I wasn't sure, so I hope it's OK. Thank you for reading. **

**Have a great week!**

**P.S. There is a petition to renew Battle Creek. If you search google, I have heard that you will find it. I found it on tumblr, so I have signed it. Please sign and do everything you can to show the network that we want it to stay. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry about the long wait, everyone! Had some really serious writers block with this story, but tonight I decided to push through it and finish this chapter. Hope everyone can forgive me and enjoy this chapter! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Battle Creek or its characters. If I did, it would've never been canceled.**

* * *

Awareness returned to Milt in trickles, like water falling from a faucet, each drip bringing with it a sense or a memory. _Drip. _Battle Creek. _Drip. _Detective Russell Agnew. _Drip. _The bomb. _Drip. _The alley. _Drip. _PAIN.

Milt gasped awake, pain radiating from his back, but that wasn't why he was freaked out. _Russ. That madman has Russ. I promised him. I promised. _He began to push himself out of bed, but was stopped by several pairs of hands, all from different people.

"Bring me a sedative!" A voice bellowed from somewhere to his right.

"Please, no. Please. Don't." Someone was grabbing his arm, but the faucet was still dripping and his sight was blurry. "No! Stop! Please! STOP!"

He didn't so much see anyone, but feel a controlling presence, and then the hands were dissipating, leaving him on the edge of the bed. He didn't even remember getting to that point, yet here he was.

Suddenly, more hands were on him, but these were different, these were soft. His vision slowly returned and he looked down from his spot at the sad face of the office manager. "Holly." The name didn't come out as a greeting or cry, but mainly as a sigh of relief.

"You need to relax, Milt. The commander is holding the doctor off for now, but if you don't calm down, they're going to sedate you." Holly said, never removing her hands from his arms.

Milt nodded and cleared his throat, blinking the unwanted tears from his eyes. "They got Russ, Holly. I promised him that I would keep him safe. I promised."

"I know, but you won't be able to help Russ like this. Just relax for a second, let the doctor take a look at you and then we'll clear everything up." Holly said, trying to gently push him back on the bed.

Only then did the pain in his back make itself known. He gasped and rolled onto his side, looking up at Holly. "What happened?"

Guziewicz's voice cut in and he looked over his shoulder to see her striding in the room. "You got shot. In the shoulder. Don't worry, there's no serious damage. It hit all muscle and nicked an artery. You lost a lot of blood, but you'll be ok."

Milt nodded and began to sit up again, pushing the pain to the back of his mind and ignoring Holly's efforts to keep him laying down. "I need to get out of here. I need to find Russ."

"Everyone's already out there. You need to res-" Guziewicz was saying.

"Commander, respectfully, I need to go."

"Agent-"

"Commander, you have no authority over me." Milt said, his voice completely hard as he sat on the bed.

Guziewicz's face went hard and she opened her mouth to say something, but Holly quickly intervened.

"He promised."

Guziewicz closed her mouth and instead shot a questioning look at Holly.

Holly looked over at Milt, wondering if she should continue, but she decided that it would be better to bring the commander in on this information. "He promised Russ."

Guziewicz turned her confusion towards Milt, watching as his shoulders heaved with a sigh, a wince lighting up his features as his injury sent a pain signal. "I promised Russell that I would get him out of this." _No need to tell them that I said I would either save him or die beside him. _Guziewicz sighed, rubbing the back of her neck as she walked towards the closet, opened the door and pulled out a pair of dark blue scrub pants with a white t-shirt. "We'll stop by the office on the way. I'm assuming that you keep an extra pair of clothes there." She threw the clothes at him and headed towards the door. "Holly'll get you a sling. I'll inform that doctor that you're leaving against medical advice."

Holly smiled and gently patted his arm before walking out the door, leaving Milt to get dressed, a sense of purpose deep in his mind.

* * *

Milt stepped out of the vehicle, gently closing the door and locking it behind him. Even if it was a piece of crap, it was Russ'. He had no personal vehicle and the FBI wouldn't be able to get him a new one for awhile. Guziewicz had a key in her desk, said that Russ had given it to her in case his car had to be moved and he wasn't around, and told Milt to keep it when he mentioned returning it after he was done using it.

A blood splotch stained the concrete in the middle of the alley, reminding Milt of his last few moments of consciousness. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, he let the memory flow through him, wincing at Russ' face as he fought against the heavy foot in the middle of his back.

Clenching his fist, Milt opened his eyes and turned towards the other end of the alley, the direction that they took his partner away.

Walking over, he saw the tire treads and looked down the exit, seeing more in the road. _They left on the exact same road that the police came in on. They knew the whole time. _Milt couldn't believe what he had just realized. They had known the entire time. They had known that Milt would take Russ to the safe house, that Guziewicz would go to the warehouse, that Milt would go out the back alley. It had all been so precisely planned, down to the bullet in his shoulder. _Too precise of shot. They intended exactly where that bullet was meant to go, to incapacitate him. Not kill him. _

Turning back towards Russ' car, he knew what he was looking for.

* * *

Milt sat in his office, the only light filtering through the windows was that that was coming from the light pole outside. He was at his desk, intently studying the computer screen in front of himself. He been searching for clues for Ivan Zek for the past five hours and had 3 different FBI programs running. Everything was flitting through possible options that Zek had in hiding his partner. _I'm gonna find him. I'm gonna find my partner. _

A small noise by the door alerted him of a visitor and he looked up, seeing Holly standing in the doorway. "Milt? What are you still doing here?"

"Looking for Zek. He's had to have left a clue somewhere. I'm gonna follow that clue to Russ." Milt said, trying to keep his voice gentle, but it grated anyways because of the number of hours he'd been awake and the cups of coffee he'd chugged.

"You're exhausted. Go home, get something to eat, get cleaned up and rest. You just got out of the hospital a few hours ago. You need some time to recover," Holly said, coming forward towards his desk.

"Can't do that, Holly. You know why. Also . . ." He hesitated, looking at her and weighing whether he should clue her in on what the other FBI programs were searching for. Finally, he came to a decision. "I think there might be a mole in the office."

Holly froze and tilted her head to the side, eyeing Milt up. "That's a very serious problem, Milt. That could ruin every single case that this department has put out."

Milt looked back down at his computer. "But it could also save Russ. I'm ok with that trade." Looking up at her, he looked at her critically for the first time, his eyes hard as diamond. "Are you?"

Holly at first looked insulted, but she nodded and left the office. As soon as the door closed, a ping came from Milt's laptop and he opened the page, seeing a name that the software had produced. After reading about this person, Milt pulled out his cell phone and dialed Guziewicz's number.

"_Hello?"_

"Commander. I think I have a lead."

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**Sorry, I know. Kind of a short chapter, but it was the best I can do. Hopefully, my muse will return and I can finish it. I never abandon a story. I simply take a really long time to reflect on it. :) Take care everyone!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello everyone! So sorry about the super long wait on this story! I lost my muse on it since the show got canceled and real life has just been kicking my tail lately. **

**Little bit of a shout out to DarkMoon010 and all the others who have stuck with me and prodded me to continue with this story. I never planned on abandoning it and I still don't, I'm just not sure when the updates will be. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Battle Creek. If I did, we would be watching season 2 right now. **

**I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. I just wrote it here at school while doing nothing (besides eating a bagel :)), so I hope everyone likes it. Please review and tell me how I did. I'm trying to get back into the swing of these characters. **

**ENJOY!**

* * *

Anyone who knew, truly knew, Agent Milton Chamberlain of the FBI knew that something was wrong. It was subtle, something barely perceptible. If the level intimacy went as deep as working in the same building, then it wasn't noticed. However, if it was as deep as working with him personally on a case or speaking with him at the office water cooler, then it was known there was something wrong.

He was silent.

He was reserved and he didn't smile as he sauntered through the hallway. His eyes would meet whoever's he was passing, but instead of smiling and nodding, he simply stared, as if assessing this person in front of him for a level of danger. But he didn't say anything. He was on a mission. He was looking for a certain person.

Guziewicz was following behind him at a distance. She didn't want to make it too obvious that she was following him, but she also didn't want him to get to far out ahead of her. If he managed to get to his target and was with the man for a prolonged period of time without her supervision, things could be very bad.

Walking into one of the offices, Milt looked around and spotted a man standing at the coffee pot. He was wearing a gray suit and white shirt with a black tie. Everything about him screamed cop and Milt smiled a twisted smile at the sight of him. Walking over to the man, his face lightened more towards his normal disposition and he smiled at the other people in the office, but his eyes were still heavy and haunted. He was at the counter way before Guziewicz made it to the door.

"Good morning," he said, reaching over and grabbing the coffee pot full of steaming, black liquid.

The man looked up, he was quite a bit shorter, and swallowed nervously. "Morning. Can I help you?"

Milt's new smile returned. Everyone in the office became very nervous. "You might just be able to." Looking over, he saw the glittering watch on the man's wrist. It was new and expensive and it made Milt's blood boil. "That's a nice watch. Cost a lot?"

The man put his coffee cup down as his hands shook barely. "No. It wasn't too bad. I – uh – I know a guy."

Milt nodded. "He gave you a deal. So it only cost you one cop, then? I see." Dropping the coffee pot, he allowed it to shatter on the floor as he reached forward and grabbed handfuls of the man's suit jacket. "It only cost you _my partner._"

"Please! You have to understand! I couldn't say no! He would've killed me! I had to accept!" The man was squealing with his hands in the air and his face a blubbery mess. If Milt didn't hate the man before, he certainly did now.

"I don't care!" Shoving the man against a desk, he yelled violently in his face, "Where's my partner?"

"I – I don't know. They didn't tell me where they were taking him! Please! You have to believe me!"

"I don't." Releasing his lapels, he filled one hand with a fistful of the man's hair and the other hand with a cup of boiling hot coffee. Yanking the man's head back, he held the cup threateningly over the man's face. "Tell me. Where. My partner. Is."

"A laundry! A laundry! They said something about a laundry! Please! Please. That's all I know." The man was nearly crying now as he looked fearfully into the face of the irate FBI agent.

Milt had half a mind to still dump the coffee all over the son of a bitch, but a quiet, "Milt," from the doorway stayed his hand. Turning his head ever so slightly, he saw Commander Guziewicz standing in the doorway, carefully watching but not approaching. Chamberlain took a step back, releasing the man's hair and allowing the coffee to join the pot on the floor.

Niblet and Funkhauser came through the now open door and cuffed the sniveling man, pausing in their walk out the door just long enough for the man to turn and say, "He really was going to kill me," before leaving.

Milt closed his eyes and rubbed his throbbing shoulder, taking a moment to just breathe, before opening his eyes and leaving the office.

* * *

Commander Guziewicz found the FBI agent in his office 5 minutes later, sitting in his swivel office chair and staring at the couch. There were still files strewn all over it from when Russ was there and Milt was still rubbing his shoulder. On her way to see him, she had thought of all the things she was going to say; how she was going to yell at him for whatever the hell he called that and tell him that they didn't do that sort of thing in Battle Creek and possibly force him to go home, but the moment she saw his face, she knew there was no way she could say any of it. All of her carefully thought out lines seemed so hollow in the face of what she was looking at now. Instead, she asked, "Are you ok?"

He shook his head. "No."

"What do you need?" She was hoping he'd say sleep or food or something along those lines. She still had half of a mind to send him home while they scoured the Laundromats in the area.

He turned towards his computer, and began to work again, the pain he was experiencing seemingly forgotten. "I need to find Russ."

Sitting down in the chair in front of him, Guziewicz folded her hands and looked at the floor. "You called him your partner."

Milt nodded. "I did."

Guziewicz waited. Her patience paid out when he finally sighed and looked at her over the screen of his laptop.

"I know that I have no right to feel as emotional about this as I do. You all have known him for so much longer than I have. You're his friends. I – I just work with the man. But, for some reason, I can't help but feel responsible. So yes. He is my partner."

"I'm not questioning you, Milt. I'm simply stating. And I like it. You're good for him. I'm gonna go update the team on what you got from that weasel upstairs."

Guziewicz was up and out of the office before Milt had an opportunity to reply, meaning that she didn't hear him when he said, to the emptiness of his office, "He's good for me, too."

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**How was it? I hope it was alright. Really I do. Please tell me what you thought with a review! I'll be eagerly awaiting each and every one. **

**Thanks and have a good one. **


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello everyone! I can't even begin to offer enough apologies for the amount of time that you have all been waiting for this story to be updated and I hope that this longer chapter will help you to forgive me. Real life has been rough and school work is heavy. Also, with the show being cancelled, I have been struggling to find inspiration, but I promised that I wouldn't abandon a story, so I'm struggling through till the end. Also, I've got all you wonderful people urging me on with reviews, letting me know you're still interested. Thank you to everyone for your encouragement and patience. **

**There is a ton of Russ whump in this chapter with a side of frantic Milt. I wrote this while I was supposed to be doing psychology homework. :P**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Battle Creek or its characters. If I did, it would never have been cancelled. Russ and Milt would have been running around, solving crimes for at least another two seasons. **

**ENJOY!**

* * *

Detective Russell Agnew was used to pain. He experienced it quiet frequently on the job. Whether he was getting punched in the face by massive criminals or chewed on by angry dogs, he was used to work related injuries. It just seemed that recently, since he was partnered with Agent Milton Chamberlain, these injuries didn't come as often. Why this was, he had no definitive answer, but he would speculate it was because he now had a partner that watched out for him. Not saying that Fontanelle didn't watch his back, but his relationship with Milt was different from his relationship with Font. Milt was . . . Well, honestly speaking, he saw Milt as . . . as somewhat of an intellectual equal. He was always dragging Font around. He cared about the man, but his affection for Milt was deeper. Milt was becoming his partner, his brother, the man that he could confide everything in. He could trust Milt with things that he would never even dream of trusting Font with. So . . . yes. He attributed his recent lack of work related injuries to Milt's partnership.

That's why the pain he was currently in was so shocking. It was new and completely unexpected. Intense and breathtaking, he felt like everything in his body was slowly dying. He felt like he was slowly dying . . . which he probably was.

Russ was hanging from the ceiling of an abandoned Laundromat, hanging from the hooks that used to be used to hold clothes on hangars. Now, they were supporting the weight of a badly beaten Battle Creek police officer tied with leather straps. In another situation, he may have made a joke about the leather, but the humidity in the Laundromat had risen and the leather was constricting painfully against his wrists. The people that had put him up there didn't even have the decency to allow his feet to brush the floor. He was at least six inches away from the floor.

Blood dripped from Russ' nose and mouth and ran down his forearms from his wrists. His temple was also bleeding and there was a painful gash on his cheek. They'd worked his ribs as well, and there was definitely something puncturing something else. How could he tell? For the past several hours, breathing had become increasingly difficult and he couldn't stop coughing up blood. It was disgusting and every time he coughed, his migraine got worse.

Counting small blessings, the back of his head had stopped bleeding from where he'd been hit earlier. _Always look on the bright side of life._

Squinting through his blurry vision, he looked down at the Russian who was currently sitting in front of him. Throughout everything, Ivan Zek had sat patiently and calmly in front of him, not bothering with the passage of time and simply watching the detective experience his own kind of agony. His eyes hadn't changed in their bored expression and only occasionally did he bother to look moved, whether it be towards excitement or depression.

Russ coughed again, splattering the floor beneath his feet with more crimson droplets. The scene had become quiet gory with the crimson liquid that was meant to stay inside his body. Coughing again, Russ took a few deep breaths so that he could say, "I would not want to be the person that has to clean this up."

A fist came from somewhere to his peripheral and punched him in the eye, causing pain to light up his features and for his vision to blanche out again. When he was able to focus on the three figures seated in front of him (he was sure there only used to be one) he heard a low chuckle.

"Detective Russell Agnew. Still as hilarious as ever. I've missed that about you, and I will certainly miss that about you when we're finished here." Zek stood from his seated place and paced around in front of the bruised and bleeding detective. "All those years, I thought about how I was going to kill you. I never really did decide. I always hoped that divine inspiration would simply strike."

"Hopefully," Russ started, having to pause for a moment to spit out a glob of blood, "It will strike you down."

Zek started to chuckle before brutally hitting Russ in the face, causing a cut to form from his ring along the side of his eye. Russ was thankful that the ring didn't hit his eye. He really didn't want to be blind. But still. _Awesome. Just what I needed. More blood._

Getting up in the detectives face, Zek said, "Remarks like that, Detective, will not make me do something foolish that will result in your escape. I have planned this for too long. This moment will happen as I, and I only, want it to happen. You will die, Detective Agnew, but only when I say so." Zek turned his back then and sat down, motioning to his brainless goons to come forward and start again.

As the punches started to rain down and Russell wondered how much longer he had, he couldn't help thinking, _Please, Milt. Please._

* * *

Something in Milt's gut was screaming at him, telling him to get going, get moving, and go find Russ. There was something terrible happening, he just knew it. How he knew it, he didn't know, but he just knew that something terrible was happening to Russ. _Of course something terrible is happening to Russ! He's in the hands of a psychopathic Russian! I'll be lucky if I find him alive!_ That thought made him freeze in his internet search. Russ dead. Those words didn't feel right in the same sentence. "Russ isn't dead," he said out loud, trying to reassure himself. "Russ can't be dead."

Moving over to the couch, he pulled the file on Zek from beneath some of the others and rolled back over to his desk, opening it and allowing the contents to spill out on the desk in front of him.

Papers on everything spilled out and he saw Russ's handiwork in the way that it was organized and how thorough the files were. Many cops sadly didn't go through the pain of a debrief as thorough as this. "Good old, Russ." Scanning the papers, he searched for anything that looked useful. He continually shoved papers to the side as they yielded no help. Getting frustrated, he threw several papers aside and looked down when one of them fluttered to the floor. Reaching down to pick it up, he froze, noticing a line written in the middle of the page. In Milt's mind, that line was in bold print because of how important it was. Picking the paper up and cradling it like a precious heirloom in his hands, he read the line again. **Several front companies owned by Zek overturned, including 3 restaurants, 2 bakeries, 1 butcher, and a laundromat.** Milt scanned down for the address and typed it into his computer, jumping up from his chair the second that he saw that it was still "empty". Running from his office, he went across the hall and towards Guziewicz's, "I know where Russ is!"

Guziewicz rushed from her office and towards him, looking at the piece of paper that Milt didn't know he was clutching in his hands. "It says in Zek's file that he used to own a Laundromat as a front company. That's what he said! Zek's mole! A Laundromat!"

Gesturing towards the rest of the team, they moved towards the doors, taking less than a minute to get into their cars and head down the road, sirens screaming. Sitting in the passenger seat of Guziewicz's car, Milt sent up a silent prayer. _Hang in there, Russ. Just hang in there. We're coming. I'm coming._

* * *

All Russ was really capable of doing was hanging in there. It had become hard to breath with the most recent beating and he couldn't waste the air to speak. Blood bubbled up onto his lips with each labored exhale and he struggled to keep from inhaling the liquid. He knew he was failing.

Standing in front of him, the tall Russian was able to look the dying detective in the eye, even with Russ being six inches off the floor. "Well, Detective, it looks like your time is almost up. Any last words?"

Russ mustered his last bit of strength and spat in his enemy's face, smiling when the Russian looked even more annoyed than he had previously. "You-."

Sirens outside the old store caused the Russian to jump and curse. "No!" Looking around frantically, his eyes landed on the large machines that were still sitting around him. "That will have to do. Put him in one of those! Quickly!"

Before Russ knew what was happening, he was being yanked off his hook, without the leather being removed, and manhandled towards one of the large machines. Others were being started up to mask the sound of the one he would be in. Slowly, his brain realized that the sirens outside were help on its way. _Milt._ Struggling weakly, he tried to at least stall them. His brain was vaguely realizing that if he went in that machine, he would die, but he was too weak and the muscled men had no trouble throwing him into one of the large machines. The door was slammed behind him and he tried to at least get himself upright, but his bound hands were making that difficult. Suddenly, the machine moved and he was spinning, being thrown all over the chamber of the industrial sized dry cleaning machine. There was no chemicals at least, but that didn't help with the spinning and the fact that the airtight drum was quickly running out of oxygen. He had a few minutes at most. A wave of nausea and dizziness struck him before his head struck the side of the drum, sending him into oblivion again.

* * *

Milt ran into the Laundromat and looked frantically around, seeing only Zek and his men kneeling on the ground with their hands behind their heads. "Ahh. Agent Chamberlain. How nice of you to stop by. I'm sorry, but Detective Agnew isn't here. He just left."

Milt stared at the man for a moment before the noise around him registered. _This laundry isn't in operation. Why would the machines be on? Unless to cover up the sound of one machine . . ._

"He's in one of the machines!" Running away from the doors and towards the machines, he left Guziewicz to handle arresting the man and his band. They were gone in a matter of seconds, allowing the BCPD to look for their colleague.

Fontanelle started to call out and open doors, along with the other members of their team, but Milt stood still for a moment, listening for a specific sound. A full machine makes a different sound than an empty machine.

His attention caught on a machine towards the end that was making a different sound, a slightly heavier sound like there was something inside. It certainly wasn't holding clothes.

Rushing towards it, Milt opened up the door on the machine, stopping its rotation and cried out at the body inside. "Russ!"

His cry attracted some attention and voices calling for an ambulance called out in the background as Commander Guziewicz's boots could be heard upon the floor.

Milt ignored all the sounds, focusing on the body in the machine drum. He reached in a grasped his partner under the arms, carefully pulling him out and setting him on the floor. The leather straps around Milt's wrists were tight and painful looking and he called out for a knife, slicing through the bands when one was handed to him. Reaching a hand out, he pressed it to his friends pulse point and breathed a sigh of relief when he felt a beat, albeit weak. Settling his hand on Russ's chest, though, thrust a spear of fear into his soul. "He's not breathing!"

Milt immediately went into action, hands working to restart his partner's lungs and beginning to breathe for the downed detective. "Come on, Russ!' He yelled, before leaning down to breathe once more for his partner. He felt whatever ribs Russ had intact break under his hands and he could feel what seemed like tears running down his face, but that didn't matter to him. All that mattered what the fact that Russ wasn't breathing.

* * *

**CLIFFHANGER! I am so sorry. I simply couldn't help myself. **

**Please send me a review with your thoughts. I really do love them. :) I'll try and update sooner this time. **

**Thank you for "hanging in there" with me. Everyone have a great weekend!**


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